Poetry

My darling, with what will I compare you?
You that look to me much prettier
than all the other flowers?
The sun that rises in the mornings
are much redder than any flower
but it’s as if you do radiate my whole world,
as if your rays comes right out of your heart.
Even the evening flower, the rose or gazania
are all insignificant in your presence
as if they are only images of you
and in deference I must admit
that I can find nothing
to bind to your beauty.